


we are bound

by corallydica



Category: Snow White and the Huntsman (2012)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 10:15:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corallydica/pseuds/corallydica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon her death, Ravenna expects that she will be faced either with eternal darkness or merciful forgiveness. She is met with neither, and instead finds herself a ghost in a castle that no longer belongs to her. And if that was the worst of it, Ravenna would be thankful, but it seems the fates have a unique punishment in mind for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are bound

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a gift fic for one of my best friends, but I decided to post it here as well because, as she pointed out, there is a shortage of Ravenna/Snow fic. I hope this work fills that void a little.

Snow White is the last vision Ravenna is granted as death takes her. The face of her undoing, doe eyes staring undaunted back at her; bearing witness to the weight of so many lifetimes finally catching up to their queen.  
  
So much loathing to the core of her being for this girl, yet Ravenna cannot tear her gaze away; and so it remains firmly affixed to green eyes and pale skin flushed pink from the fight, until her shallow breaths cease and everything fades to black.  
  
Ravenna had met her end, or so she’d thought; a too-long life snuffed out for good. But suddenly she’s aware again, and she’s faced with a white light, so bright that briefly she thinks maybe Heaven is more forgiving than she’d believed it to be. But when her vision returns to her, she does not find herself in the clouds.  
  
She’s in the throne room. She’s at the front of a swell of commoners, all faced toward her but looking past her. Looking _through_ her? She turns to see what they’re all gazing at so adoringly, and though she already knows, she’s still filled with fresh rage at the sight. Snow White, newly crowned, rising from the throne to address her people.  
  
The putrid, unwashed masses begin to cheer, “Hail to the queen!”  
  
Ravenna tries to cry out, to let a mighty bellow rip from her throat, but there is no sound to be heard save for those filthy peasants and their frenzied chanting. She reaches out in the hopes of grabbing hold of a sword with which to run Snow White through, finding not only that she passes through the hilt of the sword and the man holding onto it, but also more distressingly that she cannot even see her own hands in front of her.  
  
On the verge of panic, she slowly begins to put the pieces together. She does not cast a shadow on the floor, nor does she reflect in the glinting metal of the swords being raised high in honor of their new queen, or in the tear-glossed eyes of her admirers. She cannot speak or make any sound at all, and when she reaches out in front of her, she sees nothing where her two outstretched arms should be. She can move through the crowd like a fine mist, as easily as if she wasn’t there at all.  
  
 _A ghost,_ she realizes. _I’m a ghost._  
  
It’s too much. Not only has she been defeated— _not only_ has she faced her death at the hands of the girl whose heart was supposed to grant her immortality— _no._ Evidently, she’s also doomed to wander aimlessly, suspended in some sort of purgatory; alone and unseen, bitter and utterly ineffectual.  
  
Well, if that’s what the fates have in store for her, then at the very least she’s going to do it elsewhere. There’s not a chance she’s going to stay in this castle a moment longer, stifled and sickened by this crowd of cheering simps. It’s revolting, the way they stare at her with such adoration. Oh, and now she’s making a speech. _How sweet,_ Ravenna gags noiselessly.  
  
The doors are closed for the ceremony, but she’s apparently no longer bound by mortal laws, so she hurtles toward the stone wall, expecting to pass right through it. Instead she hits the stone hard, impact sending her careening backwards into the crowd.  
  
When she rights herself, she’s standing amidst the crowd, half-in and half-out of a peasant of a man whose smile is startlingly lacking in teeth. He doesn’t seem to notice her presence, and whether that’s because he’s so enthralled by Snow’s words or because he simply cannot feel Ravenna at all, she can’t be certain. Either way, he stares ahead, beady brown eyes latched onto Snow as if she’s his own personal savior. Begrudgingly, Ravenna has to admit that that’s probably exactly how they all think of Snow; the fair princess who swooped in heroically to save a kingdom from the rule of a ruthless queen. What a _fascinating_ tale.  
  
She tries the wall again, only to be met with the same result as before. The same holds true for the door. For some reason, although she can pass through most everything else, she can’t leave the room. After a handful more of attempts, she resigns herself to the notion that she’s not going anywhere for the time being.  
  
Ravenna moves to the window, casting an appraising gaze over the land that had not so very long ago belonged to her. The veil of death and misery has lifted; sunshine touches the cold ground once again. Color is slowly beginning to return, greens and pinks and the soft blue of an almost-cloudless sky. If shades of gray are Ravenna’s legacy, then Snow’s will certainly be a rainbow. Ravenna scoffs soundlessly.  
  
She tries to drown out Snow’s words. She’s nearly successful, but she catches the sound of her name being spoken and she perks up, turning to face the crowd just as they begin to hiss and jeer. Ravenna occupies herself by imagining them all headless.  
  
Mercifully, Snow’s speech draws to a close and she stands for one more round of cheers and applause from the crowd, and then the doors are being opened for her departure. Ravenna decides to take her leave before she has to watch Snow’s royal walk. She crosses the room swiftly, but when she reaches the doorway she is again halted.  
  
She doesn’t understand. The doors are open. There is nothing blocking her pathway, but it feels as though there is a force of some kind that bars her from leaving. Desperately she flings herself against it again and again, all composure lost in her desire to put as much distance between herself and Snow as she possibly can.  
  
Her efforts are in vain. And before she even has time to feel sorry for herself, an uncomfortable, chilling sensation overtakes her. She’s met with the sight of Snow’s back, walking in front of her now, down the corridor. That unsettling feeling must have been the moment Snow passed right through her.  
  
Before Ravenna even has time to properly think about why she could feel that when she could not feel anything else, the force that’s been holding her hostage suddenly relents and she’s toppling through the doorway.  
  
She casts one last, cold glance at Snow’s retreating back and promptly turns to head down the corridor in the opposite direction. She’s nearly to the staircase when she’s halted again, this time by a tugging feeling, as though she’s being pulled by an invisible tether.  
  
And then she’s flying backwards down the hallway, fast and utterly involuntary, and she’s flung into the queen’s chambers. Disgusted, Ravenna tries to leave, but the same force that kept her in the throne room is now barring her exit from this one.  
  
Ravenna wails against it, silently screaming her frustration, and then, slowly, it occurs to her exactly what’s happening here.  
  
No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t leave the throne room until Snow had left. And when she tried to leave the castle, she was abruptly forced back into the room that Snow occupied. It could only mean one thing. In death, it seemed, her spirit was tethered to Snow.  
  
 _"I feel that you and I are bound,"_ she remembers herself telling a young Snow. Oh, and how the fates have the cruelest sense of humor, as now they’ve seen fit to truly make it so.  
  
Death shall offer no escape from the girl who has stolen everything from her. Where Snow goes, Ravenna must follow.  
  
 _So,_ she thinks, _this is Hell._


End file.
